


II.

by tcourtois



Series: Fork in the road [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcourtois/pseuds/tcourtois
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything in life can change in just a second, but not many people get to see both forks in the road.</p><p>Two paths from one event, one that sees you save your marriage, the other that leads you into the arms of your husband’s team mate.</p><p>Ava and Mats have known each other since they were fourteen. Theirs was the unbreakable marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	II.

I.

“What are you doing here?” My brother Tom asked as I brushed past him, and into his house, the things I had managed to grab on my way out in an overnight bag slung over my shoulder. “Is it about the car? They’re still waiting for parts for mine, it’s not going to fixed for at least another few weeks.

“It’s not the car.” I sighed. I’d been walking around Tom’s street for well over half an hour trying to calm myself down to the point of not being in tears anymore and no longer shaking. If he asked what was wrong though, I was sure that I would snap and be in tears once more.

“Your phone is going crazy there, are you sure that you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong? Because clearly something is wrong.” He shut the door behind me, pressing the subject. I ignored the constant buzzing of my phone from inside my pocket. I figured that it would just be Mats trying to apologise. I wondered what bullshit excuse for his actions he had come up with. There was no excuse in the world that would justify his actions.

Then I realised that I didn’t need to keep what had happened from my brother. I was sure that saying something probably wouldn’t make me cry again. I was hopeful that it wouldn’t any way.

“I caught him in bed with Cathy. Funny thing is that his parents arrive soon and he’ll have to explain to them why I am not at home slaving over a hot stove for their benefit. Merry Christmas everyone.” I tried to make light of the situation but I could tell that he was angry, he had always been a protective sibling and had questioned me right up to me walking down the aisle, always asking if I were sure that marrying a footballer was the right choice, they didn’t have great reputations for fidelity after all.

“I’m glad that you’re ignoring his calls then. You cannot go back to him, not under any circumstances, and you’re staying here for Christmas. I know it will only be the two of us, but that’s better than a Christmas with your cheating husband and his asshole parents, or my version of Christmas which was going to be visiting dad and his new girlfriend.” He led me through to the living room and we collapsed down onto the couches, one on each. I threw my overnight bag down beside me, he noticed it.

“It was all that I could grab as I went to the door.” I shrugged.

“Then I think you need a spending spree, use that platinum card that’s never been swiped before he cuts you off. You’re entitled to half, and he earns millions.” He laughed at his own suggestion, Mats’ wealth was the only thing that Tom liked about him, the two of them had never really seen eye to eye, mostly because Tom worked for Borrusia Dortmund and saw a side of the players that others didn’t, their private personas, and he didn’t trust many of them.

Mats had obviously been able to keep his affair a secret from most of his team mates, because the decent ones would have gone straight to Tom to tell him, and the other half would have gossiped about it so much that it would have made its way back to him that way, like a game of Chinese whispers. I wondered who had known. Would Benni have known? I trusted Benni, and loved him almost as much as Mats did. If he had known about the affair, our friendship would be irreparable.

I fished my phone out of my pocket and put it down on the coffee table where it buzzed angrily, as call after call went unanswered. The screen lit up with his name and I felt sick, bile rising to the back of my throat.

“I’m never going to be able to look at that face ever again.”

“Let’s hope and pray that he transfers.”

“He’s still famous though Tom. I would still have to see him in Bild. I would still have to see him playing for the national team. Even when he retires his mother will get him some sports reporter job, or he’ll commentate and he will never go away.” I sighed.

My phone stopped buzzing then, and lit up to let me know that I had voicemail messages. I would clear my inbox of them later without listening to a single one of them. The thought of hearing his voice made my skin crawl and filled me with sadness.

“It’s going to be okay, you know. You will find someone else, someone who deserves you. You’ll be happier with them than you could ever be with Mats. You’ll see.” He spoke with such hope in his voice. It almost made me think that the thought of finding love again wasn’t hopeless, but it was wasn’t it? The only man I had ever been with had cheated on me, because I wasn’t good enough for him, because I didn’t satisfy him the way that Cathy Fischer could, a brainless woman.

“Yeah we’ll see about that. Can I be excused for a little while? I need to you know, cry.” I stood then, and picked up my bag, sighing to myself to relieve some of the pressure in my chest from taking such shallow breaths. I could feel that my body was on the edge of panic and I needed to be alone, and have my own space. I took my phone from on top of the coffee table and made my way upstairs, and into the guest bedroom, securely locking the door behind me. I slid down against the door then to the floor and covered myself with my hands, allowing myself to cry again. I felt that I needed to cry to stop the anxiety, to let all of the pain flow out of me freely, only once I had let myself cry, would I try to then repair the damage to my self-esteem. I would have to be normal, spend the Christmas break locked away like a recluse or not, and then go back to work and get back into my normal routine and pretend that nothing happened.

I could do that. I could lie myself through life, and it would be easy not to let anyone in.

My phone beeped, a text message had come through. I glanced down at the screen for a second, the name ‘Marco Reus’ upon it. I was confused as to why he would be texting me, we had texted only a handful of times when organising gatherings, and those and been very few.

I was intrigued, and so against my better judgement, because Mats could easily had asked a friend to use their phone to contact me, I pressed ‘read’.

II.

“Mats. Mats stop, your parents are going to be here soon!” I laughed, swatting my husband’s hands away from me. He was being that irresistible kind of adorable that he would sometimes be, and it was hard for me to pull myself away from him.

“They’re always late….Mum always misplaces something or has to complain about some service at the airport, and dad is too laid back to worry about being on time. Jonas might be popping by though, not for dinner but he said that he might look in on us later because he hasn’t seen any of us for a while.” He wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against the counter, his lips hurriedly attaching to my neck.

“You can’t…do that right now.” I mumbled.

“And why is that?” he asked, his lips barely detaching from my skin in order for him to speak.

“Because you know why, you know what that does to me, and I can’t be all flustered when your parents get here. I have to be the perfect presentable wife remember? I think your cookies are done by the way.” The smell of the cookie dough had filled the kitchen now. He’d forgotten to put the extractor fan above the oven on, but it was a pleasant smell. The sort of smell that people wanted to fill their home when they’re trying to sell it to a prospective buyer.

“Woo!” I moved out of the way so that he could get the tray out of the oven, and to my surprise the cookies weren’t burnt, they were a perfect golden brown colour that made me think that they would be gooey in the middle, whilst still being crisp on the outside. He’d done well.

“You actually…they’re good.” I cut one in half with a knife to look at the inside and I was right. He looked at me gleefully, because he knew that he would get to eat the cookie now that it had been opened. He picked it up with his fingers. “Don’t do that you’ll burn your fingers!”

“It’s not like I need them, I’m not a goal keeper.” I said through a mouthful of hot cookie, he was chewing slowly because it was so hot, and I could tell that he was struggling and so I went over to the sink and poured him a glass of water, which he accepted from me gratefully, saying “You’re right. I maybe shouldn’t have done that, I think I just burnt all of my taste buds off so I’m not going to be able to taste dinner.”

“You do know what we’re having don’t you?” I walked to the fridge, opening it just a fraction.

“No, not salmon.” He said quietly.

I nodded. It was his parents’ favourite, not very seasonal but I would do what I had to. Both Mats and I shared a dislike of seafood which we had hidden from his parents for years rather than just tell them that we didn’t like it, and would rather have something else.

“Sorry baby. I wish I could just do some steaks, we have those good ones in the freezer.” I had to shut the fridge again because I could smell the fish. I planned to absolutely drown mine in a sauce and cook some potato cakes to go with it to make it more bearable.

I heard the doorbell and flinched for a second. Mats looked at me, but neither of us went to answer it for a few moments, we just stared at each other trying to make the decision without words.

“You’re right, they’re my parents.” He laughed, pulling off his oven gloves and wiping some excess flour off of his hands onto his jeans.

“I didn’t say a thing!” I called after him.

“You really don’t have to, because I know you.”

I followed him, making it to the door just as he opened it. I put a hand on his back and flashed a smile as his parents stood before us.

“How was the flight?” he asked them.

“Shocking.” His mother said, lumbering Mats with her bag straight away. He pretended not to be shocked by the weight of it, but the muffled ‘ouch’ sound that maybe only I could hear said it all really.

“Oh really? Bad service?” Mats asked, before putting the bag down at his feet because it was too heavy to continue to hold up. His father gave us both an apologetic look.

“Delay after delay, no good signage in the airport and staff with terrible customer service skills who don’t know their arse from their elbow. Now dear, what’s for dinner?” she looked at me as she asked the question.

I blushed, before smirking to myself as I thought of the perfect thing to say. “Mats is making Salmon. Your son has turned out to be quite the chef now that we have the new kitchen. He also just made some cookies.”

“Your grandmother’s recipe for cookies?” she asked.

“Of course. They came out really well.” He said quietly.

“Mhm. I will be the judge of that.”


End file.
